Disclaimer: As we build up to the climax, more and more Narnians get involved, and no, none of them are mine.

Beta'd by trustingHim17, who might be very glad to be done with the story!

Alone in his room, Ed sat on the bed and thought.

I need to know what the truth really is. Which means I need to hear what people say when their guards are down.

It was about then that he remembered that first morning he woke up, and how he'd gotten out of bed. How soundlessly he could move.

I need to overhear things. And I just so happen to be good at sneaking.

So. Eavesdropping it is.

…I'm a little bit bothered by how I accept eavesdropping without a qualm. How am I to judge others, when I'm doing something that may not be right?

It's a matter of life and death.

Shouldn't morality come before life and death?

Well, yes, but—

But. Exactly. There is a but. But no one is telling you the truth, and you think you're owed the truth, so you have no problem going to find the truth on your own. Now that you've arrived at that conclusion, ask yourself this instead: how are you going to go about getting the truth?

Eavesdropping on the Duke won't do much, he's often at a volume that everyone can hear. If he does speak his plans outright, I don't know who he tells them to, or when.

And he's not the one I really want to know about, anyway. Somehow, I…I want to know about the Narnians more than anything else.

So. The Narnians would be most at ease talking with each other, which means listening when no other Galmans are around. How am I going to do that?

Hmmm…from what I remember of the map, guest rooms were all on the east side of the castle. And some of the disused corridors run right by them.

You know, if I were picking where to place guest rooms in my castle…I doubt it's a coincidence that those rooms are easy to eavesdrop on. I may not even have to be very quiet.

I'll still need to find out which room the Narnians are in, though. Guess I'll go and listen for sounds.

Before Karissa gets back.

I get it, I get it, I'm going, right? Going right now.

Ed found his way—quietly—to that area easily enough. The servant corridors usually had people running in them, but most of the higher corridors were empty.

They must all be at a fancy lunch or meeting or something.

Being a noble is very boring. I wonder if my mother helped my father escape some of that?

Ed strained his memory, but sighed. He could not recall a single thing about his parents.

I wish I could recall more than the fights or moments in Narnia. I wish I could remember my family, or at least more of them than that haunting cry.

Right. Here's where the passageways begin. The map said to shove at the stone third up from the floor under the right window—there's four stones that might work, of course, why would this be easy?

Oh, that one—

Ow.

Okay, next time duck when the wall moves or it will hit me on the head. Got it.

Glad I stayed quiet.

Ed moved into the passageway, checking the wall as he went, looking for the empty space just above his head that should let him out again. It was there, so Ed shut the door and began moving.

And sneezed.

Dusty.

Of course it would be, no one uses these.

Yes, thank you, I'm aware of that, but don't you see that it might make sneaking a bit of a problem?

Right. Solving the problem, let's see—keeping the dust out. Well, it's not like anyone is going to see me; I'll just take my shirt off and tie it around my head, to cover my mouth.

Brrr. It's cold in here.

So get moving.

I am, I am, all right?

Ed, having had the forethought to grab a torch and tinder, sat on the ground with the torch held between his knees, striking till he finally managed to get it aflame. Then he held it up and began moving as quietly as his body knew how, pausing every few feet to listen.

Not that he needed to. He'd gone around two curves, glad his footprints left him a clear trail to follow back, when he heard a strange sound, like weighted metal hitting the stones in a regular rhythm; the sound, he realised, of hooves pacing back and forth.

And there was only one horse—horse-man—who would be allowed indoors. He had found the Narnian general. And the Narnian general appeared to be pacing.

That can't be comfortable; it's a small room for someone that large.

Back and forth, back and forth, metal hooves hitting the stone in deliberate steps, until at last, the door opened.

"Queen Lucy," a deep voice said, and Ed shivered, feeling suddenly very guilty. I'd almost rather be caught by the Duke then by him. But he can't hear me, he can't hear me, I'm fine.

Just so long as he doesn't find me, I'm fine. And I'm in a secret corridor, what, can he see through walls?

…somehow that wouldn't surprise me a bit.

Stop it. Stop imagining things.

"Peter and Susan are coming," said the discouraged voice of the younger queen.

"You do not look well, Your Majesty." Two hoof beats sounded, as if the Centaur had moved forward for a better look.

"I'm just tired." There was a pause, and Ed shifted uncomfortably. He remembered the younger face filled with joy in the library, describing the world with love and wonder, and he didn't like to think about it looking tired. But she was speaking again. "This is hard, Oreius."

Speaking first names; she knows and trusts him.

And he's…a bit scary. Not who I would have expected to be her first choice for a companion. Unless…

What made her tired? Failing? Failing him? Is he her teacher?

The door opened again, Ed could hear it, and then the deep voice said, "Your Majesties."

Can he bow? I can't imagine—

Another flash of memory, the large creature's shoulders bending forward, eyes down in reverence, and then looking up—

He was bowing to me?

No, not…I don't think it was to me. I remember people being beside me.

But I don't think I feared him then.

"Mr. Tumnus, you're here too," the youngest—Lucy—said, and Ed could hear her feet hitting the floor as she got up.

"Your brother thought we should hold a council, and I must say, I think we should."

Well. I guess I came at the right time, Ed thought as the door opened again and other voices entered, greeting the rulers of Narnia; rough, deep voices, smooth and soft voices (probably those two large cats), a high and fluting voice that often repeated words, and a few other human men and women.

"Thank you for coming," and that was the voice of the King, tired but calm. "Por, please stand in the hall and see that we're not overheard; your brother can fill you in later; and bring any ideas to us, if you have them." The door opened and closed again, Por silent in his movements, as far as Ed could hear, and then the King spoke again. "We have two problems: does Galma mean war, and Ed. Does anyone have information on either?"

I'm…

Well, I guess I am a problem. A bigger one than I realised, if I'm at the level of war with Galma.

That…hurts.

"I spoke with the healer, and he thinks if Ed's wound completely heals, his memories will return." That was the older Queen, Susan, Ed thought she was called. Something about her name—about all three names, as the siblings spoke them—stirred up a longing in Ed.

I wonder if it's because I want a family like theirs.

No. I want to find a family like theirs, because I'm pretty sure I already have one. I need to find them.

"I spoke with the guard, and right ready he was to gossip, Your Majesties, after a bit of Narnian ale, and he said the lad's only been here for a short time," said one of the gruff voices. "They must have found him right after the fall. They brought him here and told everyone to treat him like he's been here for a while."

Ha. So the Duke lied on that.

Unless the guard was wrong.

But if I'd been in Narnia, that would explain why I hadn't been here.

So why did the Duke lie about that? Because he wanted to save me from my father's tendencies, possibly, since he clearly doesn't like my father; I'd be more likely to listen if I thought this was my family and my home.

That still doesn't make it right.

Unless the guard was wrong; but…I don't find that likely.

"So what are our options?" came the voice of the King. "Lucy?"

"He won't drink anything I give him." Her voice sounded so tired, so close to tears. "I've been carrying around the glass of water all day. I'm sorry, Peter. If I could just get him to drink it—"

"Not your fault, Lu." Ed heard the rustling of clothing, as if someone moved to comfort her, but he was far too busy thinking to picture it.

So they all knew. And they appointed her to give me something. Because she's the most innocent looking? It almost worked, I almost trusted her—

Hush. You don't know for certain yet…

What, you don't think premeditated group plans and a drink no one else will swallow has an innocent explanation?

"Any other suggestions?"

"Your Majesties, force may be the only option we have left."

"Oreius…" the older Queen murmured, but stopped as if someone had motioned the general to continue.

"He does not trust Narnians. He does, to all appearances, trust the Duke's heir and the Duke's lackey. He will not drink what we give, come eat with us, and I would venture to suggest he will not visit our ship. Our only choices may be leaving him to the Duke's plans, or taking him with us."

So…you want me because the Duke has plans for me?

That makes sense. Even I know the Duke wants to use me against Narnia; and Narnia would need to prevent that.

So I must know something; or rather, I knew something.

You're just arguing with yourself as a distraction from the ache you're feeling right now, you know.

I know.

"That would mean war with Galma," said the voice of—what had the younger Queen called him? Mr. Tumnus?

"I am not sure war with Galma can be avoided," the King said. "I've asked Robin to keep a lookout"—hang on, the bird's one of them too?—"to make sure we always have an escape route. If anyone needs it, there's a stream that flows through one of the gardens—the one where we lunched, Su and Lu—that flows under the wall, and anyone my size or smaller could get through if we need to, and go through the forest to the beach. Oreius, Peridan, you both need to find another way out of the castle, in case of emergencies."

Ed pictured the giant Centaur trying to go through the opening around the stream and nearly choked on laughter; laughter that rose, he knew, because he was trying to ignore the ache in his heart that still wouldn't go away.

"The Duke is not content with being a Duke; he wishes to be a king, and he wishes it strongly enough, I would guess, to wage any war he thinks he can win."

"Is that what your brother discovered, that night the Galmans attacked?"

The other brother discovered the attack?

And…do I know for certain it was Galmans? Do they?

"He discovered a record of one of the Dukes trying to take over Narnia. The White Witch turned all the men to stone except the Duke himself, and, according to this record, made him swear a magical oath, binding him and his heirs never to attack her kingdom again."

"And now it's not her kingdom anymore," Oreius the Centaur muttered, and there was a rustling as if the King nodded.

"Can we bind them with the same oath?" Mr. Tumnus wanted to know.

"Not without using her magic, and that I will not do."

It's nice to know you have some limits, Narnian King.

Ouch, that was a bit bitter. Just…

What are your limits? Did you kill my family? If you kidnap me—if you succeed in kidnapping me—will you kill me?

Does the Duke actually want this war?

Yes, Ed thought, remembering the wrathful face and pounding of his title, he does.

"Can we stop the war before it starts?" That was the older Queen, Susan, and Ed approved of the question.

But I don't think you can, not if the Duke is actually so hungry for power. Rather than just scared, wary of another nation led by children.

You're a child.

Shut up.

The younger Queen agreed with Ed, saying the same out loud.

"With the merpeople at watch for us, I don't think he can surprise us by sea. If he can't surprise us, then he can't win against us." That was the King, and the General agreed.

"The best way to avoid a war, Your Majesties, is to show him our strength. I propose we practise with their soldiers tomorrow morning while the Duke watches."

I can picture that. And I can agree it would be terrifying.

I kind of like this general.

When he's not watching me.

Though that may push the Duke into trying to capture all the Narnians, here and now; to capture all the main threats at once.

No one else thought of that; or if they did, they did not say it aloud. The Narnians agreed to go to the practice courts the next morning.

"That will also give us more time to win Ed's trust," the King concluded. "I think I'm making some headway."

You were. Till I found out kidnapping and having your littlest sister slip something in my drink were something you've been holding in reserve.

"We could also try to get his memory back," the general suggested.

Why would that help?

Were…were we friends?

Then why would you try to poison me?

It could just be a drug.

Not that much better. And there's still the kidnapping to consider.

"I'm open to suggestions on that too," the King said dryly.

"I would suggest sparring with him tomorrow, Your Majesty. His body definitely remembered how to fight, and fighting against such a familiar opponent might wake his memories."

Did we fight as friends, or as foes?

"I'll ask him," the King agreed. "Any other suggestions?" The room filled with the rustling of movements of clothing, hair, and feathers, and the King added, "You're dismissed. Thank you."

You're thanking people again.

For a council about kidnapping.

And stopping a war.

Okay, okay, they had good points too, but…

What terrible thing did I do in Narnia, that they're fine with kidnapping me?

Another memory hit him, a cold, cold memory, of being wet and exhausted, and standing before a throne, a wolf at his side, and a beautiful, terrible, tall woman standing before him, a crown on her head and fire and fury in her eyes—fury that he remembered trying to placate.

I…

That was not either of these Queens. And there was a Wolf, like one in Narnia.

Was that…the White Witch?

Another memory, of sitting beside her in a sleigh, watching one of the short men whipping the brown backs of giant reindeer, then of sitting beside her and eating delicious food…

He had known, and eaten with, the White Witch.

Oh.

Oh no, please, no.

The Duke's heirs could not fight against the Witch. My father would not have been an heir.

So…did he fight against the Witch? For Galma?

Why—why do I remember trying to help her, placate her, then?

I was there when the four began to rule?

Ed sank against the wall, letting his aching head fall into his open hands, pressing the palms against his eyes. The stone was cold against his bare back.

I thought I might be a bully. But surely, surely, I wasn't—

Surely I didn't help such a cruel Queen.

But another memory rose in his mind, a memory that followed as if it was a habit of his mind—as if he'd tried to think of it anytime he'd thought of standing before that throne, that witch. A golden Lion—look at that face, that must be Aslan, it could not be any other—telling me I'm forgiven. I remember mercy undeserved, and the way it made me cry.

If I did help the witch, if I did something that terrible, I must have turned away from it later. I could not have seen that face, loved it, and turned back to serve the witch.

But…

But that would make anything the Narnians need to do, to me, that would make their actions just.

I was forgiven by the Lion. He rules the King. Did the King forgive me as well? I would think so—he's promised to help, and I think he meant it.

But the demands of justice cannot be set aside by a King, and the King remain a good ruler. Something must satisfy justice.

The Narnians have just cause against me.

Should I offer myself to the Narnians, then?

Hang a second. I don't know—

I do know I did something wrong.

I do know I was forgiven.

I do know, if the King truly follows that Lion, that he is a good king.

And I know I do not trust the Duke.

So. I will go and ask what the King would do with me.

Ed got to his feet, knowing his fumbling movements—his head still heart, and his body felt heavy—would be hidden in the movements of the exiting Narnians.

He made his way down the two curves, pretty sure the Narnians would not see him coming out. (Not that it would matter, I'm on my way to their King, he thought, and there was a strange satisfaction in that.) He blew out his torch, pulled on his shirt, and put his hand in the empty crevice and activated the door, watching it swing open and bracing himself, just in case there were Narnians standing alarmed in the corridor.

There weren't any Narnians.

Karissa stood there staring at him, white-faced and shocked.

Mr. Tumnus was the last Narnian out of the door, and Peter waited through that last bow before turning to his sisters. Lucy sat staring at the glass of water, a glass Peter knew smelled of something wilder, stronger, and sweeter than water. Susan was looking at him.

"Peter, tomorrow—"

Peter tried to pull himself together, to be ready to reassure his sister that Ed was still Ed and wouldn't hurt him, even if he didn't…

Even if he didn't remember him.

"Don't worry, it's just practice. Ed won't be going for anything lethal," he said as cheerfully as he could, picking up the circlet he'd put on the table when he'd entered and staring at it like he didn't know what it looked like.

"Peter, can you do it?"

Peter jerked his head around, meeting his sister's eyes. "Can I do what?"

"Can you fight him, spar with him, when he doesn't know you? Cross swords and know that—that you're just a stranger to him?"

There. There it was in words, and Peter didn't know how to answer, didn't know if he could, if he could take his and his brother's game and challenge and brother-in-arms becoming something so familiar and yet something with no heart.

"I have to, Su. If it could help him—" Peter swallowed. "Then I have to."

Susan stood and came to him, reaching up to hug his shoulders. Peter let his head drop onto her shoulder, swallowing again, letting his eyes close; just for a minute, for this moment, he didn't have to be the king and older brother to two sisters in a foreign land and a brother who didn't know him.

He could be an older brother who missed his family, who had to fight one of them tomorrow, and wasn't sure he was ready.

Lucy's arms slipped around his waist and her head came to rest on his arm. "Aslan will help us tomorrow once tomorrow comes," she whispered, and Peter smiled through the pain, recognizing the phrase. Grimlet the Owl often said it while chasing people out of his library for the night.

"Narnia is freedom," he began, and his sisters joined him to finish, "And Aslan is safety."